


The Talk of the Town

by Moonshine_Givens



Category: Justified
Genre: Crack, M/M, Pre-Slash, also this is my try on crack in a pairing that is mostly angsty, it's some sort of... hm... alias. yeah. you might say that, okay let's just get something straight here: Johnny B is not actually Johnny B, there's no RP here okay guys?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshine_Givens/pseuds/Moonshine_Givens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raylan and Boyd are not - I repeat, they are not - buddies. Not friends. So, when a silly idea get stuck in the mind of a very nice, very decent State Trooper, the rumors about their not-friendship might take an weird, gay, turn. And by gay I don't mean happy.<br/>Also, there may or may not be some Doctor Who references.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Talk of the Town

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! So this was supposed to be funny, but I don't think I was very successful. John Barrowman is tagged since his name is used here so very often, but there won't be any "real" Barrowman. I'm planning on writing two chapters, and posting the next chapter asap (tomorrow, maybe?). Please remember I'm brazilian and so very far from Kentucky, and this work didn't have a Beta, so any mistakes should be forgiven. Hope you enjoy!

It all started as a silly rumor. Those things sometimes happen: someone says something about X doing the dirty with Y, and no one is quite sure if it’s true or not. But then, if in the next couple of days X is seeing bringing Y coffee, or maybe Y keeps touching X on the shoulder, or even if it’s just a matter of X and Y smiling too long for each other, everyone and their mother will be sure they’re fucking. Pardon my French.  
It’s not unheard of, but then again, it mostly happens in small boring officers and high schools. Most long-time criminals and deputy US Marshals live a long, somewhat prosper life without having to worry too much about gossip after their eighteens.  
But it started really small, just a fleeting idea on a very good, very decent State Trooper mind. For a while, he and Raylan Givens – the “heroic” Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens, son of Harlan, the whole hat-boots-star pack Raylan Givens – had worked together investigating some new mess in the Harlan County (and what was it this time? No one could remember for sure two weeks later, but it somehow had the dumb hands of Dewie Crowe in it). And it was pretty clear that the standing procedure for Givens when shit was going down back home was to find the first excuse to talk to the Crowder boy, and see how that goes. That particular day, the excuse was something in the lines of “Crowder may be given protection to this suspect even though his name didn’t come up in any way or form”. The State Trooper had rolled with it, because hey, this was the Lexington big hero, and he wasn’t a difficult man, this one State Trooper. He was fine with being Robin to Givens’ Batman. Only, when they got to the Crowder’s bar, he wasn’t exactly sure if that place wasn’t already taken.  
They ended up having a drink, even though both knew it wasn’t okay to do it while working and it was especially bad that they were having a drink “on the house” when the house owner was Boyd. But Raylan seemed to think that that was quite okay, actually. And Boyd looked like Christmas came early, and not like some criminal that had two officers of the law making all of his costumes want to flee the scene – no, he was smiling open and bright as the sun.  
Givens, on the other hand, was trying really hard to keep the whole “US Marshal” vibe, but we can’t exactly say it was a success. And then, after the aforementioned know criminal suddenly clapped his hands, went on the back and brought Givens a big bowl of vanilla ice cream – and who the hell eats his ice cream with whiskey, you may be asking yourself – and whispered “Fought you might enjoy that, my friend”… well, two things happened after that: Raylan finally stopped pretending he wasn’t enjoying himself, and our fellow State Trooper was quite sure he was missing something.  
He was sensible enough to wait until Crowder was out of earshot and ask, all casual and friendly, really not judging, because he was a very very very easy man:  
“Friend of yours, is he?”  
He was very glad that Givens hasn’t asked “Who?” right after, because he was easygoing but not a saint, and he might lose his shit over pretended stupidity.  
There was this pause that was maybe Raylan licking ice cream from his spoon or maybe Raylan choosing his words with extremely care.  
“We’re not what you would call buddies, no.”  
And then Raylan was gone, walking a straight line to Boyd and taking his arm to lead him to a door in the back.  
Now, if Givens had just answered “Yeah, sure, me and Boyd used to dug coal together and since then we saved each other lives very often and also we share the same taste in women and that’s something to bond over, so yeah, we’re totally bffs”, our State Trooper would had just nodded and continued his life. Sure, the Harlan Hero had a foot on the bad side of town (assuming there was a good side of town) but what could you expect, making the man work on the place he was born and raised? That happens all the time, right? And if you favor a bit the one criminal you grow up with, well, what’s one little murder slash bank robber on the loose? Right?  
So yeah, that would be it. But since they were not buddies… what were they? Surely not enemies. You don’t bring ice cream to your enemy, not even poisoned ice cream. Ice cream is a sure peace offer. And if Boyd was just a snitcher, he just shouldn’t be so happy about it. Being buddies seemed like a reasonable explanation for all that… happiness, but if that was not the case, well, then something is rotten in the state of Kentucky.  
So this very nice, very decent little State Trooper saw both of them walking out of the room in the back, and they weren’t smiling anymore, but they didn’t seem to be mad at each other. Since he was a good lawman, the State Trooper asked:  
“Something I should know about the case?”  
But it was no surprise when Raylan told him no, this was personal business. Since, you know, his not-buddy Boyd seemed so full of Raylan’s personal business.

 

***********************

There must have been a couple of weeks between this little incident and the next time Givens was working again with our State Trooper. Let’s call him, I don’t know, John Barrowman. That’ll be for many reasons: first, I won’t give you his real name ‘cause I don’t want you to blame him for what happens next, he was really a nice guy, only Raylan – and maybe Boyd – should be better at those things (you know, those things, like, social relationships that are normal). So it’s really not his fault. Second, Barrowman is a nice choice because you’ll be sure it’s not him that was actually there because, seriously, what would John Barrowman be doing in the great state of Kentucky fighting hillbilly drug dealers and using a misdirected gaydar? You all know mister Barrowman gaydar works quite fine, thank you. And finally, Barrowman is a great name ‘cause it will give you, our good reader, a nice mental image: this tall, British man walking around waving a gun and looking nice all around, to your heart’s content.  
Only, I’m sorry to disappoint you, that won’t be a lot of gun waving. Sorry.  
The next time John Barrowman goes to work with Givens, he’s already ready to talk to Boyd first thing. He won’t even stay long enough to hear what excuses Raylan’s got – they had already done that dance, so yeah, let’s put this show on a road before the kid’s kidnapper disappears.  
There are no smiles this time, since Boyd seems more focused on finding the kidnapper that most police officers in this damn case, and that’s saying something about the kind of man this killer slash bank robber is. Ava is also there this time, but she mostly let’s Raylan and him alone, both looking at a map of the County and pointing the possible hiding places.  
John doesn’t come near as well: standing against the bar’s counter, looking dashing with his baby blue eyes and his strong jawline, he doesn’t think he’ll be of any help hovering over those two – they work better on their own. In fact, they work really well, John might say. And again, he wonders: not friends?  
“I mean, they obviously trust each other” he says to his colleague on his right, let’s call him, hm… David. “You see, David, I worked with this guy before, I know, for a fact, that Givens wouldn’t just ask a random criminal the whereabouts of another criminal. He trusts this guy.”  
“Well, yeah.” Tennant agreed, and John, with his pretty eyelashes and his deep blue eyes, could see he was not very puzzled about the duo. “They’re friends, right? I heard they worked together when they were young, and stuff.”  
“Yeah, but no.” coherence wasn’t this handsome fellow strongest suit. “They’re not friends, Raylan said so.”  
That caught David’s attention.  
“Not friends as in ‘I don’t wanna admit I’m a dirty cop’ or…?”  
“I don’t think this is it, ‘cause let’s be honest here, there’s no one in this godforsaken County that doesn’t know Raylan and Boyd have been working together a couple of times.” Not a dirty cop per se (maybe), but definitely a helping hand for Boyd.  
“What do you think, then?” David asked, looking like a wet chicken baby. A very handsome, very tall, very charming and with nice hair wet chicken baby. “What else could they be?”  
Boyd chose that moment to lay a hand in the small of Raylan’s back, while pointing with his free hand someplace on the map.  
John had just the time to raise a very dark, very well shaped eyebrow almost to his beautiful, shining hairline, before there was a rush of movement and everybody was out the door to catch the bad guy of the week.

 

***************************

 

After that talk, it became a little inside joke between him and David – sometimes, when they didn’t had much to do, they would remember those two guys that kept eyefucking each other while playing good cop / bad hillbilly mobster. And once John told David about the “ice cream and the trip to the room in the back” incident, they had a great laugh.  
Oh, those homosexuals!  
John didn’t consider himself an intolerant man, exactly, but you see, it was kind of funny to imagine this wannabe Clint Eastwood type, you know. Biting the pillow. Hehe.  
It was a harmless, joyful laugh, like those pictures of people laughing over their salads or LOLCats.  
And that was that.  
Until one of the girls in the officer – her name was, hm, Billie – told them, completely randomly, that her cousin had seen the marshal – that one, you know, with the hat? – walking out of the Crowder’s residence in the first hours in the morning. He looked like shit, like a night not so well slept, and Billie kept saying the man must have a fucking death wish if he’s bedding Ava Crowder right under Boyd’s nose.  
David just can’t help himself around Billie Piper, and ends up saying “Probably the other way around” faster than you can say “gossip”. After that, the thing got out of hand and the whole officer was talking about. What, in John’s point of view, was…  
Actually great, if you bother to ask him.  
‘Cause, you know, now that everyone was talking about, the inside joke turned even funnier, and everyone had one piece of tale about the Harlan Boys. Suddenly they knew all about that time Raylan shot Boyd, or how Boyd had smashed Raylan through a glass wall, that they knew each other since diapers, that they were always oh so close, and about that time Raylan and Boyd got so drunk they started singing Johnny Cash songs in the middle of the street, back when they still worked on the mine.  
The people in the officer who didn’t had any stories to tell were suddenly asking his brother-in-law’s second cousin back in Harlan if those boys were really just friends or…? Wondering out loud if there was anything weird going on when Raylan was in town, and what was that again about the creep Crowder and the marshal?  
Things escalated quickly after that. Because by then, Boyd and Raylan had a little disagreement on the already infamous room in the back and, unfortunately for them, pretty much every one that was drinking on the bar by that time could hear the screams. And when Boyd ended up screaming “You forgot who I am, Raylan, and what I know about you”, most unwarned ears would think Boyd was making a reference to all the times both of them spend together as teenagers, their family illegal story, or anything related to Arlo Givens. Of course, by them, some of Boyd’s costumers were already asking themselves what business Givens had on that damn back room, and the knowing smiles and quiet sneers were spreading all around.  
All of five hours later, the gallant John Barrowman ends up hearing about the Harlan boys’ tomfooleries. And not only him, but also most members of the proud Kentucky State Police that had somehow worked on the joint task force in Harlan, crossing paths with Crowder or Givens. It was the joke in the officer that afternoon, and everyone was laughing silly.  
It was Billie that somehow changed things. Again.  
“But Raylan was married, wasn’t he? And he has a little boy now, doesn’t he? Besides, what about Ava?”  
David was, once again, trying really hard to impress Piper, as usual, so he end ups taking her question seriously.  
“Now, what we’re trying to discuss here is the nature of bisexuality. Some people are straight as an arrow, like me and my fellow John here, and some people are as gay as the 4th of July, and we’re used to both kinds. But there is also this whole other type of girls and boys that won’t just be one thing or the other, and are not only willing to copulate for pleasure with both genders, but can also have long-lasting relationship with men and women alike. And there’s not only this three types of sexuality out there, but a very large group of folks that are neither homo nor hetero. People assume that sexuality is a strict choice between straight and gay but, actually, from a non-prejudice, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly, sex-y wimey… stuff.”  
Okay. Maybe he didn’t actually said those words, but the point being: it wasn’t any more a matter of “oh look that super hero/macho man over there might actually be a sword swallower! hehe.” No. Things were starting to go into the “are those guys really – really – really doing it?” helm, a quite dangerous one.  
That was big change right there. After that, people didn’t come to the dreamy John Barrowman to talk about “those funny guys back in Harlan” between laughs and a coffee. People would come to his desk and whisper about “fucking fags”. A big change indeed.

 

************************

 

So here is where I kind of have to make a confession of sorts. I never intended things to get this far. Because, you see… that kind, handsome, gorgeous State Trooper… it’s not John Barrowman. It’s me.  
And before you start crucifying me, let’s be clear about something: I didn’t think much as I was saying those words to David, okay? I was tired, and there was a kidnapper on the loose, and everyone was really stressed out and Boyd and Raylan kept touching each other like they knew each other buttons.  
I just wanted to go home and watch some Doctor Who with my little girl, goddammit. She’s 16 and it’s getting harder and harder to talk to her and if I don’t get what’s she’s watching and what the hell she’s obsessing about she’ll call me an old man and end up running away to stalk some British actor across the ocean.  
And I’m diverging from my point. Also, my friend’s not called David. His name is Jeff.  
The idea was born under a bad day, but it hadn’t matured there, if you don’t mind me saying. I was the one to open my mouth alright, and I made the mistake of talking about something that was no business of mine in the first place, but people around me had eyes and ears as well, and the word spread like fire because there was already some gasoline spilled on the floor.  
If you care about metaphors.  
Anyway, next time I go work with Raylan in Harlan, people kept muttering and whispering and mumbling all around us, and it was clear the talk was about the marshal. Raylan kept making faces to his surrounding, opening and closing his mouth as if he was about to ask something, and swallowing the words right after with a small movement of his head. I knew he should be wondering what the hell the secrecy was all about, but I wasn’t gonna to be the one to bring it to him. At least, not until breaking point.  
And then breaking point came, when some fat ass decided he “wouldn’t be talking no shit to some fag cop”. Yeah, what can I guy say, when he knows exactly where that idea came from?  
“Raylan, we gotta talk.”  
I didn’t say anything about me talking about his diverging sexuality, since I don’t have a death wish and 16 is too young of an age for my daughter to be an orphan. But I thought the least I could do was explain to the man what the hell the talk was all about: that some of my man were saying something about someone saying a few things about Harlan people talking about…  
“Just spill it out, man; I’m growing old in here!”  
“They think you’re a fa… gay. With Boyd.”  
And before the marshal could find in himself to react and finally close his mouth, I turned my back and walked away. Honestly, that was all I could do on the matter: let the man know what was going on, and let him deal with it. I may have been the one to start the rumor but I wasn’t the one keeping it alive, Raylan had only himself – and his not-buddy Boyd – to blame about that.

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments will be welcomed with open arms. If you wanna reach me, please, my tumblr is ohthati.tumblr.com !


End file.
